


All at Once

by crushermyheart08



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aftermath, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e17 The Disease, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushermyheart08/pseuds/crushermyheart08
Summary: A week after the Varro leave, Harry is struggling with the loss of Tal and finds there are wounds that have yet to heal and bridges that have yet to be crossed. An aftermath fic for The Disease.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek Voyager or any of its characters.
> 
> A/N: Hey all! I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to write this fanfic, but here it is. This is an aftermath fic for The Disease, series five episode seventeen. Not gonna lie, it's not my favourite episode and I spent most of it cringing, but all in all it was an interesting concept. Aftermath is something Trek very rarely seems to dwell upon, especially when it comes to emotions, and so I felt I had to write just a little bit extra to heal some of the bonds between the characters. Please read and review if you have the time. Would love to know your thoughts. As always, enjoy :) x

It's only when the door chimes a third time that he bothers to acknowledge it.

In the dim light of his quarters, knees pulled to his chest, Harry Kim reluctantly surfaces from his morose reflections, half-considering ignoring the aggravating sound entirely. A bowl of Bajoran shrimp and flambé noodles sits half-eaten on the table in front of him, his uniform jacket thrown dismissively across the room - one of many items that have been subjected to his frustration. He knows instinctively who is standing outside his cabin, but he hasn't the energy, hasn't the will, to allow them entry just yet. Reason suggests he should try to make an effort, tidy up, put on a show, but everything else demands he brood a little longer, entirely unconcerned with the impression his behaviour will give. If it were Chakotay or Tuvok they'd have already used their command codes to override the security, and B'Elanna would have somehow forced the door down or started hurling an endless stream of Klingon insults through the barrier by now.

On the seventh chime he relents.

"Alright. Alright," he sighs. "Come in."

The doors swish open to reveal a lone figure standing patiently near the threshold, arms folded casually over his chest as if he'd only been waiting there a few seconds instead of the twenty minutes that have passed since the first chime sounded.

"Hey, Harry." Tom leans forward, squinting in the dark. "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure," Harry shrugs, barely registering his best friend moving carefully across the room and sitting down opposite, mirroring his position. "Sorry about the mess."

He isn't really.

Crossing one leg over the other, Tom waits for him to speak and, when he doesn't, a companionable silence settles in the space between them. It drags on for a few minutes before Tom finally decides to break it.

"You okay?"

No, is the obvious answer. Fine, is the dismissive lie. Bitterness sweeps in as a wave, retreating to reveal a deep hurt embedded in the sands of his spirit. There's a sudden knot in his throat, heavy with grief.

"I miss Tal."

"I know, buddy," Tom says sympathetically, his tone steeped in sincerity. "I know. You've just got to hang on in there. It'll get easier."

Harry almost laughs, but the sound would only be half-hearted and hollow.

"Will it?"

"In time."

"I don't know." He rakes a hand through his hair, huffs out a shaky breath. "I feel terrible."

"You don't say." Tom raises a brow in mock-surprise, and then his expression softens a little. "You can't go on like this, Harry. If you can't talk to me about it then I'm sure we can find-"

"There's no one else I can talk to, " Harry cuts in, paling at the thought of having to discuss his most inner thoughts with anyone but his closest friend. "There's no one else I _want_ to talk to."

An uneven beat hammers in his chest - one of the physical consequences of his condition he has come to recognise all too well. Seven long days have passed since she left, since the first ties of their bond began to fade, as tangible as sunrays disappearing beneath a cold horizon.

"I feel like a part of me is missing, you know?" Harry sighs, blowing out a rush of air and with it all the frustration he has tried to bottle away. "I know I'm supposed to be trying to forget her, but it's like she's everywhere. I hear her laughing when I wake up. I see her smile when I go to sleep. I feel like I'm going crazy and it doesn't matter how many hours I spend doing extra duty shifts or exercising on the Holodeck, nothing changes." A breath. A conclusion he can't bear. "Heartache has been written about in poems and stories for centuries, but I don't think I ever really understood it until now. I guess I never believed you could actually die from a broken heart."

And his is split right down the middle, the other half now travelling to the other side of the quadrant. Tom offers an encouraging smile, his eyes crinkled with understanding, and Harry is grateful for it, but the half-concealed pity in them pulls at the roots of his misery.

"I don't know. Maybe I should have taken the Doctor's damn medicine after all," Harry huffs, moving to his feet and pacing to the other side of the room. "Maybe I should have just got it over with."

Because it would be easier than living with this. Because he might be able to concentrate on something else for more than five minutes. Because for once he might fall into a dreamless sleep without worrying his chest might implode from the overwhelming emptiness that claws at his ribcage every night.

But then, Harry realises, he'd be deprived of the love Tal had given him, and no matter how painful the experience he's determined to cling to that love until the last remnants of their bond have dwindled away. His gaze shifts to the ensign still sitting against the far bulkhead, casting a question to the wind.

"Do you think I made the right choice?"

Tom smiles wryly.

"You're asking for my advice _now_?"

Harry lowers his head, acutely aware of the masked accusation.

"I'm sorry."

And he is.

"Computer, increase lights by twenty percent."

He hears Tom get to his feet, criss-crossing a path through the battlefield of debris. A hand clasps his shoulder, solid and reassuring.

"It's okay, Harry. You're lovesick. It's perfectly normal to feel the way you do."

"It's not just that," Harry shakes his head, staring at the carpet beneath his feet. "I feel terrible for not taking your advice. For lying to B'Elanna. For being late for my duty shifts. And I'm not even going to repeat what I said to the Captain-"

"Why?" Tom starts in surprise, taking a step back. "What did you say to the Captain?"

Harry groans, moving to sit on the couch, cringing awkwardly at the memory.

"You don't want to know."

Crossing his arms, Tom eyes him with a knowing suspicion.

"Is that why you've been so quiet on the Bridge lately?"

"I guess," Harry replies a little sheepishly. "I mean, I did disobey her orders. _Twice_."

"I'm surprised she didn't throw you in the Brig," Tom says, and for once he seems genuinely surprised.

"She did threaten to," Harry points out, shrinking at the recollection. "I can't help wondering... if I had voiced my opinion in a more professional manner she might have-"

"Listened to you?" Tom finishes.

"Yeah."

"Harry, considering you're still on duty and you haven't been stripped of your rank entirely, I'd say you've got off pretty lightly. What are you so worried about?"

He considers the question for a moment, observes the anxiety running amock in his mind, circling in an endless loop, egged on by a relentless crowd.

"I think I really hurt her, Tom."

For a moment the ensign on the other end of the couch looks concerned, baffled even, and then his features spread into a wide, optimistic grin.

"Don't worry," Tom says. "The Captain is a lot tougher than she looks."

"Yeah, I know." Harry shakes his head, exhaling irritably. "But you didn't see the look on her face. I was angry and upset and I had every damn right to be, but I shouldn't have yelled. I-" He looks up to see Tom with his legs crossed casually beneath him, tucking into the remains of his favourite shrimp and noodle dish. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tom blinks, popping a shrimp into his mouth. "Were you going to eat this?"

Harry gapes, torn between rage and an incredulous bewilderment.

"How can you possibly be thinking of food at a time like this?"

Tom shrugs, twirling a string of noodles around his fork and devouring them in one bite.

"You were saying?"

Harry snorts, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I guess I just wish I could have handled the situation a whole lot better than I did."

Tom chuckles.

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing."

"Right," Harry agrees. He stares glumly at the floor, chews the inside of his cheek. "Do you think B'Elanna will ever forgive me? She seemed pretty mad the last time I saw her. I mean, she worked on the Varro ship. She worked with Tal. I didn't think she'd have a problem with our relationship."

Tom frowns, and there's something unforthcoming in the way he considers his reply, as if he's holding back, still trying to protect him.

"She's not upset because you had a relationship, Harry," Tom replies slowly. "She's upset because... well, you kind of sabotaged her chance of getting her hands on some new components to help improve our warp core efficiency."

"Oh."

Tom sighs and sets the dish to one side, turning to face him fully.

"I won't lie to you, Harry. There are quite a few people who are angry about what happened. After all the work we did, they were really hoping the Varro would exchange some of their technology with us."

"Including you?"

"Well, yeah," Tom shrugs. "I mean, isn't that the case with every alien species we encounter? Isn't that the whole point of us being out here? Exchanging technologies? Improving our chances of getting home sooner?"

Home. He isn't sure where that is anymore. He misses Earth, still dreams of it from time to time, remembers its vivid blue skies and fresh, sweet air. And he loves being on Voyager, loves the friends that have become closer than family, loves the home they have made here. But part of him had started to dream of a new home. Of settling down. Building a family. With Tal. But it's a dream that will never come to fruition, because she's heading in the opposite direction, moving forever beyond his grasp.

"Are you mad at me too?" Harry asks.

"To be honest, Harry..." Tom exhales heavily, leans back into the couch. "I don't know. Part of me wishes you'd taken my advice, but I also know you've got to make your own decisions, your own mistakes. I suppose it would have been nice if the Varro had offered us something in return - even if it was just a couple of isolinear chips or information on the systems they've visited. But I don't blame you for what happened."

Relief descends, alleviating some of the pressure in his chest, but the reality of his best friend's words reveal a truth he hadn't considered. Rising from the sofa, Harry paces to the other side of the cabin.

"Maybe if I'd listened to you then things would have turned out better," he mutters. "Maybe, if I'd properly thought it all through, I'd have gotten to spend more time with Tal." He smiles sadly, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind. "Maybe she'd have even stayed on Voyager for a while."

"That's a lot of maybe's," Tom smirks, his eyes bright with a mirth that swiftly dissolves into a profound solemnity. He moves to his feet, looks him directly in the eyes. "Harry, listen, there's no point dwelling on the past. Trust me, it's not worth it. You can spin yourself in circles wondering 'what if' and regretting things you've done or said, but it won't change anything. You've just got to focus on what you've got now and move on. You can carry as many regrets as you like with you, but don't let them drag you down."

Harry swallows, huffs a strangled laugh.

"When did you get so wise?"

Tom smiles knowingly.

"I learnt from experience, remember?"

Of course he remembers. They've been friends right from the start: a young ensign fresh out of the academy and an ex-Starfleet, ex-Maquis criminal. Their friendship may be an unlikely one, but it's turned out to be one of the strongest he's ever known.

"You risked having another report on your service record covering for me. Why?"

"Well, my record isn't exactly spotless. I figured another report wouldn't make much of a difference," Tom says seriously, shrugging it off as if it were a mere inconvenience rather than a career-changing disaster just waiting to happen. He blinks, offers a half-grin. "That was a joke."

"Oh."

Harry slumps, a little relieved, but still the uneasiness remains. Or maybe it's just the soft clenching of his heart wondering where the other half is. Tom steps closer, a look in his eye he can't quite recognise.

"I did it because you're my friend, Harry," he says eventually, "and friends look out for each other."

Harry smiles.

"And they apologise too, right?"

Retrieving his uniform jacket from its crumpled position on the carpet, Harry slings it over his arms and takes a deep breath. He grabs the PADD from the table and heads toward the door. Tom calls after him, curiosity waning against worry.

"Harry, where are you going?"

"I forgot I was supposed to hand this report in to the Captain," Harry replies, weighing the PADD in his hand thoughtfully. "I'll see you later, Tom."


	2. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek Voyager or any of its characters.
> 
> A/N: Hey all. Here's part 2. I liked the little exchange at the end of the episode between Harry and Janeway, but I really wanted there to be more. So, here we are. Please read and review if you have the time. I'd love to know your thoughts. As always, enjoy :) x

"Captain." He comes to a short stop just in front of her desk, holding out his PADD. "Here's the report you asked for."

She doesn't look up from the document she's reading as he enters, her gaze fixed upon each line, flitting carefully and fro. A moment passes, then another. He's contemplating sliding it quietly onto the white surface and silently retreating when she reaches out and takes the proffered report from his hand. A cool rush of air takes its place, wisping through his fingers, and his arm falls stiffly to his side, swiftly joining the other tucked neatly behind his back. Without looking, the Captain stacks the PADD neatly on top of the mountainous pile of reports on her desk she has yet to read. Casting a glance at the chronometer, Harry wonders if she has noticed he's two hours late.

"Thank you, Mr Kim," she says, and then, when he doesn't retreat: "Was there anything else?"

He didn't feel so nervous in the turbolift, or on the Bridge, or just outside her Ready Room doors. Why is it here, when he needs his wits about him, that all his worries come scrambling back? Squaring his shoulders, Harry straightens and shrugs off any hint of hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am, there is."

He considers sitting down in the chair opposite, but she hasn't offered it, hasn't given any implication she has time to spare. And this isn't a conversation he wants to rush.

"Do you have a minute?"

Setting the PADD down, Janeway turns her attention to him, the expression on her face unreadable. He takes a deep breath, abandoning the lines he had so carefully rehearsed in between decks six and one, and plunges straight in.

"I've been thinking about what you said," he starts, and the Captain quickly holds up her hand, shaking her head.

"Ensign, there's no need to-"

"I know people do crazy things when they're in love, and that doesn't excuse my actions in any way." He shouldn't interrupt her, but the words are already forming of their accord and he can't seem to find the willpower to stop them. "But I hope you can understand why I disobeyed your orders. I hope you understand why I don't regret it." He swallows audibly; his stance remains steady. "I just can't regret something that was so wonderful, even if it was only for a short time."

He means it. Every word. Because he understands now how it feels to be in love and loved in return, wholly and deeply, and he wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the universe.

The Captain looks at him through a mask of impenetrable passivity.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Harry."

She's being kind. Like she had been in Sickbay. Sitting by his side after his examination, the disappointment evident in her tone, speaking to him with unexpected kindness despite everything that had passed between them.

"Maybe not," Harry says. "But I want to."

She observes him for a moment, considering her reply, and then rises from her seat. She stops in front of the viewport, facing the onrush of stars, a hand coming to rest on her hip.

"The truth is, Harry, it was wrong of me to come between you and Tal." Janeway turns slowly, and he meets her direct gaze, forcing his every muscle into an easy neutrality. "Disregarding the protocols and regulations that stand broken, the fact remains that I should never have presumed to interfere in your personal life. I should never have pressed such an order on you, but I hope you understand why I had to."

The apology sinks in, the words falling into place, relieving a little of the anger pulsing in his veins.

"Thank you, Captain." He nods shortly. "I understand."

Her brows rise ever so slightly in question.

"Do you?"

"You were protecting the ship." Like you always do. "You were protecting me." He summons a tenuous smile, standing a little taller. "But I'm a bit older now, Captain and, as much as I appreciate it, I don't need you to protect me anymore."

She almost smiles, and the warmth her expression emanates makes him feel a little lighter.

"I'm your _Captain_ , Harry," she says, patting his shoulder, "and that means you'll always be under my protection, along with every other member of this crew." She exhales quietly. "You might have disappointed me, yes, but that doesn't make me any less proud of you."

A well of emotion springs up somewhere below his ribs, and for a moment he finds himself at a loss for words, grasping for a response that will not come. Gratitude and hurt and delight and pride dance around each other in turn, weaving threads around his heart and pulling tight. The smallest of smiles. She pats his shoulder again, drawing him back to reality, a reminder of why he had come in the first place.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Slowly she inclines her head, and he gingerly broaches the topic.

"I think I owe you an apology. About what I said."

She doesn't move an inch, her expression offering no trace of emotion or thought but the flicker of a shared memory that hangs in the space between them with all the destructive potential of a quasar.

_Have you ever been in love?_

It wasn't until after, when the Varro ship has split apart at the seams, when the world had stopped spinning, that he had fully realised the impact of his words and the poisonous sting they carried.

"I guess most of us have known and lost people back home who have moved on with their lives," Harry continues quietly. "Sometimes it's easy to forget we're all in the same boat, and not just in a literal sense. I know, at least I think I understand-" He can't quite hold her gaze, focusing instead on the coffee mug sitting on her desk. "How difficult it must have been for you... being so far from Earth and your fiance, and I should never have presumed-"

"Ensign," she warns, but he presses on determinedly.

"I should never have spoken to you in that way. It was insensitive and out of line, and I'm sorry, Captain."

She nods, the slightest tightening of her jaw the only discernable response. As she lowers herself onto the sofa Harry half expects an immediate dismissal. Instead, she indicates to the seat next to her and he sits down hesitantly.

"There's nothing to forgive, Ensign," Janeway promises. "You were making a point, and you made it well." Again, the impenetrable mask, any display of hurt feelings masked expertly with a smile. "In future I would appreciate it if you spoke up more often about how you feel, but perhaps with a little more..."

"Restraint?" Harry offers.

She tilts her head, offering a different choice of phrase, though the implication is much the same.

"Composure."

He nods in understanding.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've been thinking about what you said," she says. "Would I have taken a hypospray to make myself stop loving my fiance, to erase my own heartache?" Her hands fold in her lap, and he finds he doesn't know quite where to look, startled by her honesty. "The Doctor has offered me one on mulitple occassions over the past five years, but I've never chosen to take it. Heartache comes with its grievances and pains, yes, but I've found that in bearing it one finds a greater strength." She shakes her head. "I shouldn't have ordered you to take it."

"I didn't," he reminds her.

"I know." An odd smile emerges on her face. "Harry... you don't have to apologise for being in love," she says softly. "It's not a disease. It's not something we can control. Love changes us in ways we can't imagine, and often those changes are so gradual they happen before we realise it. Love defines us as individuals, and as a family. And, in a way, love is what makes us who we are."

He smiles, albeit sadly, but even now, with Tal so far away, he can feel the strength of their bond, and he draws strength from it.

"Thank you, Captain."

She stands, and for a brief moment he thinks she's going to say something else. And then, with a quiet "dismissed", she makes her way to her desk, picks up the PADD she had left there, and begins to read.

The chronometer reminds him of the time, that he's off duty, and so is she. He pads to the door, hesitates, swivels round to face her.

"Captain?"

She looks at him this time.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I hope you can find love again someday. And I hope you know how much this crew loves you."

He watches as her Captain's mask slips just enough to allow him a glimpse of the woman beneath.

As the Ready Room doors swish closed behind him and he makes his way to the turbo-lift, Harry feels the sharp vice gradually unfurling from around his heart. The damage has been done, but the bridges are being re-built. He nods to Tuvok, accepts the encouraging smile from Chakotay and enters the lift, casting a glance to the star-speckled viewscreen. Somewhere out there he knows Tal is free, exploring the universe with the same wonder, the same passion that runs through his veins. And he knows that out here, sailing amongst the stars, there'll always be a part of her with him.


End file.
